milk and honey
by SebonzaMitsuki27
Summary: Yuzu. The centre of their universe: heart and soul and love alone.


milk and honey

disclaimer: bleach is not mine.

—

**lullaby**

Yuzu barely remembers anything about her mother, even if she thinks about her every day.

Oh, she tries; closing her eyes and humming a tune that feels like a faded memory, like that of _Anastasia_, but the dust won't come to life, only lets itself be swept away, and she's just a princess without sparkle and sing-a-longs, but she has her castle of mops and kitchen-ware, and she supposes that's enough for her.

And besides, whenever she feels lonely, there's always the brightly smiling face of her mother on the wall; and that image alone warms her heart better than any forgotten melody.

—

**depreciate**

Knuckles clenched, Karin shakes and there's nothing more that Yuzu wants to do that wrap her arms around her. She knows that Karin feels useless, unable to do anything to help them – but that doesn't mean that she has to get into endless fights, with bruises on her hands and legs, mud and grass stained on her clothes.

Instead, she waits patiently, trying to not let her tears escape; biting her lips as she opens her medicine kit, the dutiful sister-nurse, prepared to take care of her elder sister.

Her hands are gentle when applying pressure, and Yuzu softly says, more a murmur than anything else.

"You're not useless, Karin-chan. You'll never be that to me."

—

**lazy**

Yuzu has her days.

Days, in which she simply snoozes, passing away the time. Days, in which she prefers to mend the doll collection she has, ever growing. Days, in which she makes strawberry sundaes, the only 'chore' she is able to make because her recipe is top secret.

Days, in which she is not in charge of the house and its snug neatness, preferring to… relax and sit back.

Because days like that, the _other_ members of the family can try being the maid for once.

—

**nature**

Flowers fall at her feet.

Leaves unfurl at her lightest touch, turning from green to golden to gamboge.

She could be gliding, and the world would be coming to life because of her simple and graceful presence.

Yuzu is the Kurosaki Household Goddess, cleaning up the mess, cooking the meals, and receiving their pure, unadulterated love as her reward.

Truly, the rest of the family know that she deserves nothing less.

—

**romance**

A White Knight in Shining Armour, his White Stallion never too far behind.

It would be nice, you know?

To have a romance like the novels of chivalry, where a connect so deep is made that the heart cannot help but miss a beat, and Yuzu cannot help but sigh as she reads on, eyes wide, a smile softly spreading on her face.

But—but Jinta-kun isn't really a White Knight, his hair isn't lustrous – it's more eye-catching than anything else, his eyes aren't intense – but they are a pretty sort of sparkle, and he isn't really composed – more a hapless mess that slides easily into chaos. And… he doesn't really have Shiny Armour either – he's clothes are scruffy and tattered and muddy and sometimes, she just wants to sew and make a neater design. It's also likely that she'll never know, but she doubts that he has a White Stallion either…

Yet, it's okay.

He wears his heart on his sleeve, and as much as he fumbles, and deals with the situation… he makes her smile, and heart warm, and that's really all she's ever wanted.

—

**bemuse**

To be candid, the origin of their friendship will always be a puzzle to her.

Ichi-nii guffaws (at who, or what, she'll never know), Karin wrinkles her nose (uninterested, but always a protective glint in her eyes) and Otou-chan weeps (proclaiming that she's either going to get married, or she's cheating with her current-boyfriend-that-she-doesn't-have).

Her only response to the situation is to laugh politely and ask her friend if he wants more tea, before they comfortably settle into another in depth analysis of comparing and improving techniques, and showing each other what they made earlier.

Maybe the origin doesn't matter – they're friends, and they fit perfectly, even if not all the pieces are there.

… Bostov always seems to cling tighter to her, if that's somehow possible, whenever Ishida Uryuu comes to visit her.

—

**emphasis**

Karin has a devious plan, to which Yuzu believes is the way to a smile.

Apparently, Yuzu is the only one who can carry it out, for Ichi-nii would be too suspicious of Karin and her daredevil ways. He'd definitely know that something was up.

So here she is, duster in hand as she tries to aid the cluster of dust that resides in Ichi-nii's room. Tidy it may be, but her big brother is clueless to the dust that is slowly building up.

"Say it. Put extra emphasis on the second syllable." Yuzu can't help but giggle, a pretty smile adorned on her face. "I dare you not to smile."

The frown lingers on his face, but there's curiosity in his amber eyes.

"Fine. Ni…" Ichi-nii takes a deep breath. "Ni_ma._" He frowns after a few seconds, tries to say it again. "Ni_ma._"

"Try adding an extra _ma._ That might help."

"Ni_mama._"

… it doesn't.

It's a cunning word since it always makes the tips of his mouth tug upwards, no matter how hard he fights it to maintain his 'scowling image' and the both of them know that the image is crumbling because of a single word and it's pronunciation.

And they can't help but laugh.

—

**flutter**

Snapshots and shutterbugs; moments encapsulated within a single flash.

Moments can last longer than their supposed to, shorter than intended – but then, the unpredictable temporality is exactly why the photographers job is so exciting.

No two moments are the same, despite the near similarity to the situation: it is _never _the same.

But all the same, there is a photo that Yuzu wishes to capture, encapsulated by her gentle hands, finger lightly pressed on the shutter.

Time, place, emotions… one day, she will succeed.

To take a picture of a flower that caresses liquid on its velvet petal skin against a sun that either sinks or soars.

—

**wither**

Pupils widening, she sits up, gasping and covered in darkness.

The nightmares are getting worse, and tears are running down her face – and she can't remember a second of what she dreamt. They're getting worse, the aftermath, but the content is… blurred, vague, erased. But she still feels disorientation. She lets go of Bostov, realizing that she's holding on to him too tightly.

Innocence is crumbling, like a flickering candle dying because there is no more oxygen in the air.

Karin mumbles something, sounds like _Shirou_, and the bed covers rustle as she shifts in her sleep.

Still clinging on to Bostov, she transfers from one bed to another, padded feet plodding across the floor.

And Karin's hand finds hers, still within her slumber; while Yuzu places Bostov on her heart, and waits for her breathing to regulate and eyes close while counting sheep.

Like this, her nightmares never return, and she remembers her rustic dreams of what only her pure heart could imagine.

—

**panacea**

The entire Kurosaki household is panicking.

Except Yuzu.

Because Yuzu is sick and delirious and lying on her deathbed as each breath she breathes drags her closer and closer to death.

"Has she got enough blankets? Food? Milk and cookies? Honey and pancakes?" The words come garbled, and it's all Yuzu can do to not _groan_, moaning like a phantom luring her to the land of Somewhere Unknown.

A collective gasp: time is running out.

"Are you okay? Is there – is there anything we can do? Remember, Yuzu, _we love you_ and _you can't leave us._ Got it?" They lean in like paranoid mothers, jumping to the worst conclusions because they've never been in this situation before.

But they have. So many times. Yet their reaction is always the same.

"… dying…" The youngest Kurosaki gives a theatrical gasp before going limp, eyes closed 'forever'.

Cue the wailing of the father.

Oh, Yuzu knows that she shouldn't torture them. Much.

But she loves this feeling of being fawned over and taken care of, because she can feel their love for her like beams of sunlight, strengthened by worry and tenderness, the hurt and the comfort binding them forever. It may be selfish, but then, they say it sometimes, that she should indulge. Once in a while, and never too often. Though she likes being cared for, she likes caring for them better.

All the same, she can't help but smile at them, the next morning, when she is the only one awake and they are asleep, snoring on her bed.

And that, really, is a cure that will never fail.


End file.
